There are car wrecks every minute, somewhere in the world.
This is the first one that almost hits me.
Taking a walk down the Rambla, this accident happens on the roadway at a spot I just passed. I hear braking,turn, and watch a white delivery van moving crazily down one lane of traffic, swerving, balanced on two wheels, looking like it will hit parked cars on the curbside, which it does. It is like a stunt man driving in the movies except this is an average Joe who is going to be lucky if he walks away without a scratch.
People converge on the accident scene to make sure the drivers are okay, talk about what they see or didn’t see, who is responsible and who isn’t, and wait for police. I don’t know what caused the accident but the cops will take interviews, pictures, piece together a truth that will be torn apart by lawyers if it goes to court.
A police car almost loses control as it passes me with lights and sirens operating, dodges a car that doesn’t get out of their way, does a U-turn, then shuts down the roadway at one end of the accident scene. An ambulance,already here,tends to an older man in a small car involved in the accident.
The one they need to check on is the working man who climbs out of the upside down delivery van and slaps himself on the top of his forehead with two hands, lucky to be alive.
This could have been a disaster instead of a photo op.
This is my next to last day in Montevideo, and, it looks as if it it didn’t come too soon.
Travel is not always safe.
A picture is worth a thousand words, some say, so here are fifteen thousand words.
Colonia Del Sacramento, new and old, is quiet, peaceful, scenic, and makes for rambling, sightseeing, day dreaming. There are many Europeans who come here to live and the entire city population is under 30,000. Here, on one small boulevard, is an Apple store so you know that new has conquered old.
This town dates back to the 1600’s and some of its original still standing buildings are churches and whorehouses which speaks volumes about human motivations and needs.
This old town, full of history, is like old people sitting on the front porch watching people passing by and with-holding judgment.
There is enough history here that eccentricity can be tolerated.
This jewel is how Montevideo used to be before it got too big for its britches.
The first two or three antique cars I see here seem like anomalies.
After four or five, though, I wonder if this place attracts people who love old cars, or just turns them that way?
Walking around stone paved streets of this old city, one sees old cars parked under carports, in driveways, along alleys, abandoned on curb sides, even acting as giant flower pots in vacant lots. Some of these transports appear to be running while others have long ago given up their ghost.
One flashy vehicle in a residential driveway features a couple of fish who could be right out of the book “Wind in the Willows” except that there are no fish in that whimsy, just a loony amphibian. A red 60’s VW is parked in front of an office building. Around town, still driving, I see rust buckets that spit out dirty exhaust but still get their un-self conscious drivers from point A to point B.
Old cars in this older town are excessively big, heavy, generous with big metal bumpers and shiny chrome. When you turn on their radios you hear big bands, early Elvis, Hank Williams. These bad boys are big lumbering dinosaurs that wear their hearts on their sleeves and I especially love it when their engines growl, pop open their hood and see real distributor caps. These antique cars were made when Detroit was King and are still licensed and ready to roll.
Old cars and old cities go well together.
I’ve never been in a hurry to erase the past but these old cars suggest that the hands on the town clock are moving in the wrong direction.
Going back to the past, I am continually reminded, in Colonia Del Sacramento, that looking backwards doesn’t always have to be painful.
The first stop on our day trip is a farm and museum off Route 1 that takes you from Montevideo to Colonia Del Sacramento through some of the best vineyards and cattle country in Uruguay. The Museo and farm are the creation of Emilio Arenas who not only has a world record pencil collection but sells cheeses, jams and jellies, in his little country store.
People collect anything. It can be ashtrays, matchbook covers, ceramic animals, music, books.The list is endless. Most collections,though,never end up in world record territory.They end up on shelves in the living room, or occupy a garage or shop where no one but the addict can be affected by his compulsion. In his case, Emilio’s pencil collection is the world’s biggest and brings customers to buy in his gift shop.
Out in the yard, not far from our tour bus, I sit in a chair under a shade tree and let the world zip by.
It is comforting to be in the countryside and dream about staying in a little house surrounded by chickens and goats and a milk cow. At night a window will be open and the stars will look like little pencil pricks of light, white sparkling dots on a black canvas.
Next time back, Emilio will get a pencil from New Mexico from me.
He will always find a place for one more.
You have heard about Nirvana.
Imagine my surprise when our tour bus pulls into the Hotel Nirvana driveway just outside Colonia Swiss in Uruguay. It is exactly what I have imagined Nirvana to be like, except we aren’t in the clouds.
We have stopped for a twenty minute break for rest room facilities and a cup of coffee or tea, and treats, which we don’t have to pay for because the cost is included in our tour ticket.
The Nirvana Resort and Spa seems to have those things that people with time and money like – a pool, a driving range, a spa, fine dining, rooms that are clean and cleaned by someone else.
The huge white structure doesn’t exactly look Swiss but is likely modeled after some famous European get away. The grounds are immaculate and reminds that people with money want things to look just as nice where they go as where they are from.
Everything here is watered, raked, manicured. The staff wears black pants and white shirts or black skirts and white blouses. The girl who patiently serves us hot chocolate must have made a million but chats amiably while she fixes another.
After twenty minutes we hustle back to our bus, heads counted to make sure we aren’t leaving anyone behind, and we push on to Colonia Del Sacramento, the crown jewel of this journey.
It is sad to leave Nirvana, but paradise is not cut out for all of us.
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